


Stupid

by AfflictedwithAlliteration



Series: Cotton Candy [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Dyscalculia, Happy Ending, Hurt and comfort, Reader hates math, Reader-Insert, Some fluff? Maybe?, Stoner/smoker papyrus, non-genered reader, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 11:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19945090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfflictedwithAlliteration/pseuds/AfflictedwithAlliteration
Summary: You're not stupid and Papyrus can prove it.





	Stupid

You stared at the phone in shock. The screen showing the thin little lines from pressing too hard as you glared at your grade. Such a useless piece of— 

With a curse you flung it at the wall taking vicious satisfaction in the way it exploded into pieces, the wall denting from the force. Another glance at the computer and it followed, sailing in a wobbly arc. You would relish the stupid thing breaking—or would have, if pale white bone hadn’t snatched it out of the air. 

“What’d the computer do to you?”

Your teeth ground down, “You should have let it smash.”

With that you stomped over to him, intent on breaking the stupid thing but he held it above your head, looking amused but you could see his eyes scanning your face carefully. 

“You’re crying.”

“I’m mad!” You snarl and jump for it, smacking at his arm uselessly. He laughs lowly, the worry in his voice fading.

“Hadn’t noticed, sugar.”

“Fuck off, Pap!” 

With a wave of his hand the computer drifts away and he catches you in his arms now. The anger washes out of you almost instantly, your legs wrapping around his waist as you cling like a monkey.

“Say again?” He murmurs into your hair as you both fall to the bed.

“Stupid math!”

“Fail again?”

“…yes.” You groan. Feeling stupid now, “It’s not fair! I took my notes; I get the concept so why—I just—I don’t even need it! Not this level but I need it for the degree and I fucking can’t—” You begin to cry again, growing more agitated because you don’t want to cry but you’re so frustrated! Papyrus doesn’t say a word, just rubs your back soothingly for a bit until your enraged hiccups die down. 

“Wanna have me—”

“No.”

He sighs, “Look, honey, I get you wanna do it on your own but it ain’t working.”

“It’s not that.” You mumble and pull away now. You’re tired of this argument but he was always pushing, peeking over your shoulder with comments until you ripped up the work every time he offered to help.

“Then what?” His words are coaxing. Just as coaxing as the arms pulling you back and refusing to let you leave the bed or the comfort of his arms. But you don’t answer, and he doesn’t press.

* * *

“How?! How is it negative?!” You snarl at the computer as if it will tell you where you messed up the answer. The pencil in your hand snaps as you stare back and forth from the computer to the paper in front of you. But you can’t figure out where you messed up. 

You miss the look your boyfriend sends your way as you stomp away from the computer.

* * *

“It’s wrong!” You mutter stubbornly. Logically the computer can’t be wrong, but you can’t see where yours is wrong. Everything lines up. Same numbers. Different answer. 

Your throat tightens the longer you stare until you slam the laptop shut and stomp off to shower. 

Papyrus only waits until you’ve started the shower to open it back up.

* * *

“Wait! I have a quarter!” Usually it’s fine. 

But your calculators gone, and you’ve already punched in the numbers. The woman stares at you expectantly but you awkwardly stare at the change. It’s simple. She gave you exact change now so—

You freeze like always. You know that you know that answer but as you try to count it out quickly on your fingers you see her roll your eyes. As hard you can you bite your lip and take off you name badge. You don’t say a word as you hand her back all her money, turn off your register light and walk out.

* * *

“Hey.” 

You burrow your head deeper into the pillow, “I don’t wanna talk about it, Pap.”

“…they said you could take a personal day tomorrow too.”

“Whoop-de-fucking-doo.” You snap. You don’t mean too but that fact that he knew about it makes you wither inside. It’s stupid and dramatic and you could’ve just asked for a damn calculator from someone or just asked the lady. Shakily you take a deep breath and poke your head out, your boyfriend still standing there, the tip of his smoke lighting up the dark room, “Sorry.”

“Ain’t a big deal but if you wanna make it up to me, gotta come with me tomorrow. No buts.”

“Manipulative.” You mutter as you sit up, hugging the pillow to your chest.

“That a yes?”

“Yeah.”

He actually smiles as he ruffles your hair and offers you the joint that you take for once, using the cough as the excuse for your red eyes.

* * *

There’s no way in hell.

“I’m not going in there.”

“Yeah. You are.”

“I—”

“You promised.” Words die in your throat. Even the simplest of promises was not something he took lightly. But you can’t force your hand to open the door.

“What if they say I’m not.” You mutter staring down at the papers he handed you as he loaded you up in the car. The words stare up at you like excuses. “Then what?”

“Then we get you a tutor.”

“I have a fucking tutor! I have two!” You explode, “Just because they explain it doesn’t mean it makes sense! It doesn’t!”

“That’s why we’re—”

“It’s stupid.” You speak over him, locking the doors. You’re not going in. “Just because you get it doesn’t mean I do. There’s nothing wrong, Pap, some people are just stupid.”

The car feels heavy and your gaze snaps to Papyrus, unable to apologize but upset that he’s upset. His magic sputters in the air, his pupils practically gone as he stares at you flatly. “Get out of the car.”

Your eyes prickle, “No.” He breathes in heavily, something he doesn’t actually need to do, and you know he’s genuinely pissed. You flicked your gaze away, crumpling the papers in your hands, “I know I promised but I can’t, Pap.”

He says nothing but the door opens, and you’re lifted out anyway. You don’t fight him but you refuse to talk to him as you wait to be called in.

* * *

“What.” It’s not a question because _what_.

“You exhibit some mild to severe signs of dyscalculia.” The man repeats, a little gentler, “Think of it like dyslexia but for numbers. See here? Your answer is correct, but you’ve transposed numbers and gotten a different answer. And for this one? You’ve added steps from other formulas. You’re negative and positives are switched consistently here, here, and here.”

He continues, pointing out the flaws. The things you couldn’t see when you tried to find them yourself. Even now you swore you’d done what you thought was correct and not what he said you did. You snatched the paper from his hands, staring at it blankly, his voice filtering out entirely until a hand landed on your shoulder. 

You looked up at Papyrus and something your chest snapped; the paper crumpled in your hands. The words came out breathy and shocked, “I’m not stupid.”

He smiled, looking at you like you were an idiot though you couldn’t mistake the pride in his eyes, “Never thought you were, honey.”

“Papyrus!” You gasped his name and hugged him, his arms tightening around you as he laughed at the way you sounded. Squeaky and excited, “I’m not stupid!”

* * *

You growled and Papyrus only tapped your noise then hummed. You blinked several times trying to put thoughts to the tune, “X equals negative be plus or minus square root, B squared minus four A, C, all over two A!”

“And this one?” He said, he handed you a yellow sheet beside the green one, you frowned as you worked. But they two problems were different—

“It’s negative!” He watched you closely as you chirped, pencil still in one piece and you flushed, “What?”

He didn’t answer as he swooped in to press his teeth to your lips, swallowing your annoyed laughter about the wrinkled paper.

* * *

“I don’t know!”

“Then use the calculator.”

“…oh yeah.” You muttered, embarrassed as you quickly fixed your answers, “It was a six not a nine.”

“Sure about that, honey?”

“Don’t be a dick!”

He laughed as he left you to it blowing the smoke away from you for once unless he wanted your attention while the numbers blurred in your eyes as you tiredly reviewed the quiz answers.

* * *

You stared at the phone in disbelief as the screen once again resolution pixelated. This time you only flung it so you could run down the stairs. Papyrus sat in his chair and you launched yourself at him, curling up in his lap. 

“Fail again?”

“I got a D plus!” You practically screamed in sweater. He patted your shoulder soothingly but you leaned up and pressed your lips roughly against his. 

“That good?”

“I can almost pass! Pap, I didn’t get an F!” You shook him and he laughed at your excitement when you kissed him again. “Next time, I’m getting accommodations and the teacher said I can probably pass!”

* * *

“Wait! I have the penny!” You swallowed the groan threatening to spill out when you realized your register calculator was gone again. The woman noted the look on your face and rolled her eyes, “Kids! It’s not even that hard. Here.”

The penny slapped on the counter and you took it with a sigh, reaching for a pencil in your pocket and frowned as you hit something hard. You pulled out the object and grinned, the words on the back making you grin wider as you punch in the numbers then handed the woman her change.

“Have a good day!”

* * *

“Hey.” Your boyfriend nodded but didn’t look up from his phone. Not until you flung yourself on the bed and leaned on his shoulder, giving the limb a quick peck. “Good day?”

“Not even a little but have I mentioned how much I love you lately?” You said cheerfully as you peeked at his phone, missing the light blush on his cheekbones. “Whatcha reading?”

“Nothing important. Wanna go get some food?” 

But you’d already caught the words on the screen, your chest warming but letting him keep his ‘secret’ you jumped up. “I’m buying.”

“Ain’t happening.”

“Got to treat you for being the best boyfriend ever.”

This time you didn’t miss the blush.

**Author's Note:**

> This was purely me being self-indulgent with my shitty math final today. On a diff note, dyscalculia sucks. I have it, there isn't much schools can do to help (kinda like with dyslexia) so you just sort of bang your head against the wall. I will say, getting the diagnosis helped me feel less stupid and has improved my overall ability but sometimes I still just can't math. So, if you have it, I feel you. Even if you don't and math is hard, I get that. Keep trying, this is my fourth attempt and soon I'll be on my fifth but I get higher every time :D


End file.
